


LotE Bonus Stories

by Sparkleaf



Series: Exile [9]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Ruby & Sapphire & Emerald | Pokemon Ruby Sapphire Emerald Versions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparkleaf/pseuds/Sparkleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These stories are meant to serve as companion stories to Legend of the Exile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Razor: Homeland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A hunter's claws are sharp, and his mind shsrper, but his heart sharpest of all." A companion story to LotE, featuring the fiercest warrior in Shock's patrol.

Zangoose had fur as white as snow. Zangoose was a proud warrior, strong and brave. But one day, he met Seviper, a black serpent in the grass. Seviper wanted to test his strength against the hunter.

When Seviper lunged, his fangs sliced at Zangoose's fur, letting the red blood stain his white fur in jagged stripes. And from that day on, we white hunters have been at war with the black serpents.

My name? Heh, you don't need to know my name. The only ones who need a name are lovers and assassins. You're not my type, and my claws could rip your throat out before you blinked. But sure, I'll tell you my story...

There's this place below the mountains, a cozy little valley where you can find wildflowers in the spring. For all the fire and smoke the mountain throws up, our home stays lush year-round.

Humans live on the far side of the lake, but there aren't too many of them, and they haven't really done anything to bother us. There isn't even a paved road on this side of the river, for the love of whatever-you-believe-in.

"Sorry, Sands! It was just a little splash," said an Azumarill hastily as a Sandshrew glared at him. "Just a little joke!"

"A joke?" repeated Sands, his little teeth clenched. "You call that a joke, Foam? You almost killed me!"

Annoyed, I sat up. "Behave, you two," I growled. "Foam wasn't thinking, Sands is exaggerating, now drop it." Jeez, I could hear them all the way from the shade of my favorite tree.

The humans like walking through the grass and climbing the slopes, I suppose. They like doing that. It's nice that they aren't tearing up the earth to expand their roads, thought I've heard some humans would do that.

It gets loud and annoying when the humans cut down trees for firewood. That's fine, they never touch my napping tree. And less trees means fewer Zigzagoons hiding on the branches.

"Go away, Tuck," snapped a Mawile from the shadow of a boulder. "This is my shade. Go find your own. Shoo."

"Aw, no fair! You always hog this spot, Kate," protested the Nuzleaf, waving his arms. "Maybe I wanna be in the shade for once, huh?"

He hopped back as Kate's black jaws gave a warning snap at his arm. "Too bad, wood boy!" she hissed, a nasty gleam in her eyes. "If you want this spot, you've gotta take it!"

"Ugh, you're alwsys so unreasonable," grumbled the Nuzleaf, crossing his arms. "I bet Zangoose agrees." Turning, he cupped his hands around his mouth "Hey, Zangoose! What do you think?"

"No concern to me," I replied with a yawn, rolling over onto my side. "Just take turns or something." Why are they asking me, anyway? Are they really so helpless that they can't settle their problem without dragging in bystanders?

Really, most humans just stick to their roads and leave us alone. Most don't try to screw up the whole place. Not that we could stop them, if they really wanted to.

There is one human who lives on this side of the river, actually. She almost never comes out of her house, but there's a lot of electrical currents inside her house for some reason.

On the mound next to her house is a little berry garden, which we go rummaging through every so often. It's not even fenced off, for crying out loud. Mostly, I know because I sometimes find food in there. Once, I caught an Oddish. I love those tasty blue turnips.

Once, I found something in the berry garden that wasn't food. Something shiny. It was this small thing made of metal, with these little legs and round blue eyes. Okay, it wasn't a "thing", it was another Pokemon. An Aron, to be exact.

"Don't eat me!" he cried, running around in a panic. "I'm not food, I swear!"

Food? Yeah, I was confused too. "Why would I eat you? You're made of steel and you weigh more than a mountain."

"Huh?" He stopped dead and stared up at me with his wide, blue eyes. "You m-mean... you weren't going to eat me? Truly?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course I wouldn't." I've tried eating an Aron once before, and boy, did my jaw hurt for weeks. Some things just aren't meant to be food.

He let out a sigh of relief. "Um... I'm Barrel," he said nervously. He lifted a little steel paw, which I shook. "You?"

"Just call me Zangoose," I told him. He nodded obediently. "What're you doing in this parts?"

"Oh, I... I got lost," he stammered. "My mom and dad were heading to the red mountain and we got separated in a rainstorm, see?"

No, I didn't see at all. See, I don't run into very many of his kind. Most Arons live much further south, down on Dewford, where the ground is rich in iron deposits. "The red mountain? Ridiculous. No one goes there."

He stared at me. Jeez, wasn't he listening? "Seriously. They say it's like a blister on the earth and it bleeds fire and smoke."

Okay, I hadn't been to the mountain myself, but my mama told me a lot of stories. Years ago, the mountain shuddered and spat fire and ashes into the sky. "Anyway--it's super dangerous. Forget about going anywhere near there."  
  
Barrel was dismayed. "I can't do that!" he cried. "My parents are waiting for me. Please, tell me how to get to the red mountain!"

Ugh. Stubborn kid. I looked around the valley. Looked like Kate and Tuck were at each other's throats again.

No one would notice if I was gone for a few days, right?

"Tell you what," I said Barrel. "How about I accompany you there?"

The Aron was surprsed. "You'd do that for me? Th-thank you!"

"Yeah, no problem." I hadn't been out of the valley in a long time, but following my mother's stories, I was pretty sure I could figure out how to get to the red mountain. "I'll help you find your way..."

...Barrel stayed in my den for the night, and we left the valley early the next morning. The ground was rocky and sparse. These were the highlands that hardened my mother into a hunter, after all.

Around noon, we approached a cluster of boulders. "Shade! Glorious shade!" cried Barrel, skittering iinto the boulders.

"Wait, you idiot!" Scanning the area, I was pretty sure this was where my mom killed her first Seviper. "Come back! You'll get bitten--"

A shrill scream, followed by a rattle and a hiss. "Ah, damn." Racing forward on all fours, I leapt into the rocks to find a large Seviper looming over the Aron.

Leaping forward, I landed a slash on the snake's body, darting back as his jaws snapped at me. Claws, fangs, teeth, tail; iit was too simple to be called a dance, as natural as walking and breathing.

As my claws rammed into the snake's throat, ripping away his lower jaw, I heard the rattle of his mate. I whirled around as the other Seviper sprang at me with thick, bulging coils.

Her jaws clamped down on shoulder, injecting her venom into my blood. If I was anyone else, my flesh would be shriveling instantly, the poison shooting to my heart and slowing my pulse to a stop.

Ha, what a joke. The venom was like water to my body. As the fangs sank into my shoulder, I seized the Seviper by the head and crushed her skull in my claws.

"What a pity," I thought to myself, flaying the limp body against the ground for good measure. King and queen of predators? Ha! They were no match for me.

"Aaugh!" screamed Barrel from behind me. Snake meat dropped from my mouth. Over in the darkest corner, a third Seviper had my young friend in its jaws, the Aron's little legs wiggling frantically. The fangs were already poking into his back.

The Seviper's eyes filled with fear as I lunged. It released its grip on the Aron's body as I seized it by the throat, my claws squeezing around its head until its eyes and venom sacs bulged. But then, in that split second before my back paw smashed the snake's skull--

"W-wait! It's just a baby!" gasped Barrel. I froze, my back paw halted in mid-swing. How was he not dead? Seviper venom was extremely potent. Such a tiny body should already be cold and still.

You see, I should've realized it already. The armor of the Lairon family is very strong, strong enough to withstand a Seviper's fangs; an Aron like Barrel is pretty much immune to snake venom. On top of that, the third Seviper was much smaller than the first two, and confined to the safest part of the den.

In other words, not only had I killed both of his parents, but he couln't even hurt either of us. "You live for today," I growled, setting the Seviper back down before going back to check Barrel. "You okay?"

He nodded, though his eyes were still wide with terror. Certainly, his body wasn't wounded--well, maybe a little beat up, but that was it. "You know, you look scary, but you're really nice down inside, aren't you?"

Well, don't get the wrong idea. I already had two meals' worth of snake meat, and the little Seviper was barely a morsel. No point in killing him.

Anyway, we left the rocks and continued on our journey, up the craggy slope.

By sunset, ashes were floating in the air, covering the ground and sticking to my fur, coating the distant pine trees. Barrel yawned. "Maybe we should stop for the night," he suggested.

Gathering some branches, we managed to put together a decent fire in a small rock alcove. "So what's your family got to do that's so important at the mountain?" I asked before stuffing more Seviper coils into my moth.

"Well, you see, there's a mysterious power living underneath the mountain," chirped the Aron. "Some men in red uniforms tried to take the power, but other humans came and stopped them. So the earth-spirits told my family to come and help guard the power!"

A terrible power underneath the mountain, huh? The mountain like a blister on the ground, regurgitating the earth's blood. "Ha. I guess if you're brave enough to go, so am I."

A mysterious growl in the distance. "Knock it off," I muttered without thinking.

Barrel blinked. "Huh? I didn't say anything."

Whoops. "Sorry, reflex." I couldn't help it. That distant growl reminded me of Kate's groan whenever Tuck complained to her. Must've been an instinct.

I heard the growl again. My eyes narrowed. Could it be? Carefully, I sniffed the air. Yes, there was no doubt. That was the growl of the dragonlings of the white ridge, the terror of my valley. "Barrel, hide."

As the Bagon's scent approached, I rose to my feet and turned--but he was much closer than I realized. And much as I hate to admit it, I was worn out from the day, and my shoulder still hurt. I barely had time to raise my claws before the first punch knocked me flat on my back. Eagerly, the Bagon grabbed me and brought my neck to his open jaws.

Just before the Bagon chomped down, a sudden blur of steel slammed into him. "Hiya!" cried Barrel, waving his little paws at the dragonling. "Take that!"

I would've laughed if I hadn't just been an hair away from dying. Despite the Aron's weight, the Bagon seemed completely unhurt; if anything, his rage had intensified. Snarling, he smashed his fists against the tiny, cringing Pokemon relentlessly. But he had his back to me. This was my chance!

Pulling myself up, I shoved myself forward and struck with my good arm, claws digging into the distracted Bagon's back. The dragonling struggled to pull himself free, but I held my grip, holding him in place. Getting up on his hind legs, Barrel smashed his little iron skull into the Bagon's forehead repeatedly

Finally, in a haze of pain and rage, the Bagon wrest himself free. Howling, he scrambled away from our campfire, hands to his ridged forehead, tripping over fallen branches as he fled.

Letting out a long breath, I lay back, sprawling over the ground. "Hey! You okay?" asked Barrel, tottering over to me.

What a sweet kid. "Ha, just need to rest. My mom trained me for way tougher stuff." Mama had a wild childhood; she had to survive own. But before she snuffed it, she made sure I could live on my own so I wouldn't go through the same thing, bless her.

The Aron watched as I polished off one Seviper, pushing the snake carcass aside. "Did you learn anything from your dad?" he asked me.

I shook my head. "Dead. Sevipers got him before I was born."

His eyes went round. "I'm sorry to hear that."

I shrugged. "It was mom's fault for falling in love. Especially with one of his kind. She should've known a Sylveon would get killed in an instant."

Barrel was shocked by my words. "But that's not right! You never even knew your father? Never played with him, never rode on his back? That's too sad."

"Ugh, knock it off. He's dead now, okay?" Hell, I don't even know what he looked like. Maybe, if I could see his face, just once... yeah, I guess that'd be nice.

In the morning, we set out again. The fang wounds on my shoulder were starting to heal. The air was surprisingly fresh, clear of ashes. And I got my first good look at the red mountain.

It looked nothing like the way my mother described it. A bloody blister? No, this was a magnificent mountain of brave red, its peak wreathed in a ring of rising steam. "Wow," was all I could say. "It looks good."

By noon, we reached a human village at the foot of the red mountain. Barrel halted. "This is it!" he exclaimed, looking up at me in awe. "My parents are waiting for me at the hot springs. You should come meet them!"

Whoa there! Was this becoming a date or something? Ridiculous. But in all seriousness, I really was reluctant to meet his parents. The way Barrel talked, well, it was clear his way of thinking came from his parents.

Let's face it. No matter what sort of power lay under the mountain, it didn't sound like the sort of thing that would help get food. What could be so important that Barrel's family would travel across the continent and risk their lives to protect it?

The Aron looked sad when I gave him my answer. "You sure?" he asked. "I'm sure my parents would love to see you. You helped me find my way, after all."

"Yeah. I'm sure. Nice meeting you." I didn't want to admit it, but I was pretty anxious. My claws could crush the greatest of hunters, but this, this was beyond me. What could be more important than survival? If something could exist without bloodshed, then... then what was I doing?

He started to pad away, then paused. "Thank you," called Barrel, his blue eyes bright and full. "You're the best hunter I know. You're brave and strong. But..." He hesitated, looking down at his paws. "I... I think it's lonely to have no family. Just killing and killing to stay alive. So... take care, my friend."

On the bluffs, I watched the little Aron trudge off down to the village. What a dumb, naive kid. And yet... And yet, I found myself smiling as I headed back down the mountains...

...Well, I thought I could leave the valley for a few days without too much of a bother. But everyone was waiting outside my den when I finally returned home.

"Zangoose! There you are!" cried Tuck, waving his knobbly hands. "We've been searching for you!"

An Oddish bounded up to me and buried its face in my fur, squeaking happily. I was shocked. I feasted on its kind; why didn't it fear me?

"Yeah, you made everyone worry," said Kate, crossing her arms. The Mawile--who I'd always thought put herself first--was looking indignantly at me.

A few Wingulls cawed their agreement before gently descending on my shoulders. "Hey, hey, no need to raise a fuss," I laughed nervously. "I was just out for a few days."

But I hugged them all anyway. Truthfully, I was glad to see them too.

"I'm just glad you're safe," said Foam, beaming. "Could you let us know when you leave home next time? Please? Just so we know you didn't get injured somewhere."

"Y-yeah. I... I'll do that. Sorry to make everyone worry."

I thought the rest of the valley considered me a nuisance, maybe a bully at most. But I was wrong. They asked me to hang out with them, every day. Heck, I could swear they even liked me a bit.

"I- I never said that!" protested Kate, her voice rocketing a few pitches up. The Mawile hid her flushed face behind her large back jaws. "I-- I just thought, it'd be nice..."

Anyway, that all happened over a year ago. That was the last time I stepped out of the valley, until that day--the day of Foam's warning.

"Everyone! Listen to me!" cried the Azumarill, climbing out of the river. "The Exile is coming!"

Kate, Tuck, all of us who lived in the valley--we listened in horror. Foam spoke of an ancient monster, once sealed in the opposite world by the hero of humanity. A monster who had escaped from hell, who ravaged the human cities with his armies, desiring vengeance.

We didn't understand, still don't understand. Humans weren't perfect, but Lanette was nice enough, and the people of Fallarbor left us alone for the most part. Why? Why does the monster slay humans? Why must the invasion happen?

The answers... don't matter anymore. The valley, our precious valley, will never be the same again. Not after the red Garchomp passed through. Even if the river no longer flows red, and new trees rise from the broken slopes, it won't be home.

We're almost to the village of the hot springs, we few survivors of the valley. The destruction of our home has changed the fight for me, because that loss is behind my every blow.

I don't know if Barrel is all right. I don't know if he can help us. But it's my last hope. I must find him and the mysterious power under the red mountain, no matter what.

When I was young, I never questioned why Seviper and Zangoose were mortal enemies. The cunning serpent and the wild hunter; we got a thrill from dancing with death. That's just the way it was.

But hell, maybe that's not the way the whole world should work. The harder you fight, the closer you get to death. And in the end, what's the point? It's just not enough to keep going. That's what Barrel wanted to tell me.

They must love this land, Barrel's parents. That's why they care about the mysterious power under the mountain. Because they don't want anyone to hurt the land they call home.

My name? Oh, right. The name's Razor. Razor the Zangoose... Razor of Hoenn. And I'll fight for this land with all my strength, no matter what.

\--------


	2. Rush: Aspirations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse of Slick's early days as a trainer. Part of the LotE Bonus subseries!

Cheerful cries filled the the schoolyard as Viridian Union School's newest class of graduates lined up at Professor Oak's table. For nine years, they'd attended class, studied, and taken tests.

Now, as of this week, they were finally eligible to register as Pokemon Trainers. One by one, their very own Pokemon journeys were about to unfold...

"So, those are your choices," finished the professor, recalling the Charmander and returning its Poke Ball to the rack. "All right. Who will be your starter?"

The next boy in line line, Aurton, wore a tan-and-blue jacket. "Um, sir, you only named eleven," he said tenatively. "Didn't you say there were twelve choices?"

Sighing, Oak looked away. "Well, no one's ever interested in the twelveth choice," he admitted. "These days, kids just want their Chimchars and their Charmanders and their Totodiles--"

The boy shook his head. "I... I don't want any of those! S-sorry. But, um... what's the last choice?"

Silently, the professor took a Poke Ball from his coat pocket and activated it. In a flash of light, a Mudkip emerged from the Poke Ball, eyes darting around the school yard in terror. "Mudkip, the Mud Fish Pokemon," said Oak quietly. "Is this the Pokemon you--"

The others in line burst into laughter, but Aurton's eyes lit up. "Mudkip! Just like Brendan Corund," exclaimed the boy, his heart pounding. "Yes, please. I'll take Mudkip!"

Ignoring the taunts and snickers behind him, the boy smiled at the Mudkip, who quickly glanced away, whiskers quivering. "All right, then," said the professor. "Then it's settled. Sign here, and you can pick up your ID at the nearest Pokemon Center."

Patting the Mudkip on the head, Oak recalled it into its Poke Ball as Aurton finished up the paperwork. Finally, this lonely Pokemon would have a friend.

But then, as he handed the Mudkip's Poke Ball to the boy, his hand trembled, his smile fading. For some reason, he felt deeply uneasy. "Listen," said Oak sternly, looking the boy in the eye. "Aurton, was it? This Mudkip has been through a lot. Take very, very good care of him."

"Yes, sir! I'll call him... uh... Rushing River," stammered the boy. "Well, maybe Rush for short..." Smiling, he cupped the Poke Ball close to his heart. "A-anyway, I swear I'll treat him well! Thank you so much!"

\--------

"..and one day, I'll be a champion! A son you can be proud of," wrote Aurton, his hand trembling. "Love, Aurton." Folding the letter to his parents, he placed it on the dining table and looked once last time around the home where he'd been raised for the last thirteen years. A home to which he was about to say goodbye.

Picking up Rush's Poke Ball, Aurton pulled on his orange knapsack, school notebooks and stationery replaced with camping supplies. No PokeGear, no PokeNav; he wouldn't have any contacts to add, anyway.

As Aurton headed outside, the Mudkip trembled in his Poke Ball. How could he belong here, at this human's side? He didn't belong with anyone else. He didn't belong in Oak's laboratory. How... how could he possibly belong to the boy who named him Rush?

\--------

Trainer ID in hand, Aurton trudged through the swirling morning fog. Tugging his jacket close to his body, he kept a steady pace down the dirt-paved trail, his Mudkip curled up in the Poke Ball on his belt.

Sunlight streamed down through the canopy of trees as morning overtook dawn, illuminating the path. Taking an Aspear from his bag, thirteen-year-old Aurton Silversky bit into the crisp, tangy flesh.

Every so often, light glinted off bits of trash and litter nestled among the green, catching the trainer's eye. His eyes fell on a discarded issue of the Pewter Gazette, bearing the headline: "Golden Victory! Ethan defeats Lucas in a close match, 1-0."

He couldn't have gotten more than a hundred meters from the city gates when he felt the Poke Ball on his belt trembling. With a jerk, the capsule popped open, and his Mudkip tumbled out in a flash of light. "Whoa! Careful!"

He tried to scoop up the Mudkip in his arms, but the mud-fish continued to squirm around fearfully, sliding right out of his grasp. "Hey, what's wrong?" asked the boy, staring as the Mudkip landed in a patch of soft grass. "Rush?"

The Mudkip looked away and shook his head, trembling. "Come on, you can tell me," coaxed Aurton, squatting down, tenatively reaching forward.

The orange whiskers quivered, the tail-fin tense. "Kiiiip," whispered Rush, still not looking at his trainer. "Kip mud... kip, kip."

The boy's eyes widened, and he drew back his hand. "Are you mad at me?" he said quietly, his gaze dropping. "Did I do something wrong? I-I'm sorry. I..." He covered his face. "I just wanted a Mudkip. I mean... the Champion of Hoenn had one too! But..."

Breathing rapidly, Rush looked up at Aurton, his heart sinking. "Kip kip. Mud, mud kiiip, mudmud?" Could it be? Was his trainer going to abandon him already--

A high-pitched squeal. The Mudkip whirled around as a Rattata lunged at Aurton, sinking its teeth into the boy's leg. Shrieking, the trainer sank to the ground, clutching his leg, writhing in the grass.

Dismayed, Rush stared at the boy. Trustworthy or not, he had to do something! Shutting his eyes, he sprang headfirst at the Rattata, dislodging it from Aurton's leg.

Squealing, the Rattata flew back and hit the ground. Baring its fangs, it scampered at the Mudkip with an angry hiss.

"Get him, Rush," said Aurton through clenched teeth, pressing the fabric of his pants to the fresh wound on his leg.

A thrill swept through the Mudkip. Growling, Rush sprang up over the Rattata, forcefully banging his head against the rodent. Falling on its back, the Rattata twitched, and went still.

Slowly, Aurton got up. "You okay?" he asked weakly. Breathing hard, Rush nodded, still glaring at the Rattata. Aurton cracked a smile. "Oh, good..."

Before the trainer could get a look at the Rattata, someone collided with him from behind, sending him tumbling to the ground again, his injured leg pressed into the dirt. "Agh!"

As the dust settled, the boy pulled himself up into a sitting position, still clutching his leg, and got a good look at whoever had runinto him.

A few feet away was a red-haired boy with blotchy, pale skin, a few years older than him. "Hey, off to the side if you can't keep up," he snapped. "I was chasing a Rattata."

Aurton glanced nervously at the unconscious Rattata. "S-sorry," he stammered as he got up, limping slightly. "Didn't mean to... um..."

"Then get off the road, retard." The ginger brushed dust off his pants. "The name's Mark."

"I'm Aurton." Worried, the young boy checked Rush's Poke Ball for scratches or cracks. Luckily, it seemed to be fine.

Mark squinted at him. "Aurton? What sorta name is that, eh?"

"It's my name," muttered the boy, brushing dust off his pants. "I'm from Viridian. Just left home today." The legendary Red might've left home at age eleven, but under Viridian civil codes, the age requirement for Trainer registration was thirteen.

"Ha, so you're a newbie!" The ginger pointed at Aurton, shoving his finger into the younger boy's ribcage. "And you picked a Mudkip? Retard. Looks like you need a lesson, slick-footed retard. I challenge you to a battle!"

\--------

Trees with long, arching branches lined the forest path, with wild tangles of waist-high grasses and patches of shrubbery here and there. "You up for this, Rush?" said Aurton, looking at the Mudkip, a bit concerned.

Though still a bit winded, Rush nodded and stepped forward into the battle ring. He'd prove himself to his trainer.

"Let's roll! Firebutt!" called Mark, clicking the button on the red-and-white capsule in his hand. The Poke Ball's two halves swung open and released a brilliant flash of light onto the other end of the battle ring, revealing a Chimchar.

"Ook ook!" screeched the Chimchar as it hit the ground across from Rush, waving its flaming tail and hopping up and down wildly.

Aurton stared at the Chimchar. "Um, why did you call him Firebutt?"

"Because monkeys are cool, and butts are cool," said Mark, sticking his tongue out. "Fire is also cool, so ha!"

[i]Monkeys are also butts,[/i] thought Aurton irritably. He stared at the Chimchar with distaste. His first trainer battle. This should be easy. Water beats fire, right?

"Single 1-on-1 knockout match, first to 1 point wins," said Mark, putting his hands on his hips. "Let's go!"

"Firebutt, use Scratch!"  
"Rush, use Growl!"

Squeaking, the Chimchar sprang at Rush, who stood his ground and let out an unnerving cry--but not before Firebutt had raked his claws down the Mudkip's head fin, leaving angry violet marks. Aurton gasped, Rush yelped as the monkey quickly retreated to his place with a backflip, grinning smugly at trainer and Mudkip.

"Firebutt, use Scratch!"  
"Rush, Tackle!"

Aurton and Mark stared intensely as their two Pokemon sprang at each other, Rush's tail flicking like a rudder as Firebutt's tail burned like a match. This time, the boy heard a satisfying screech from Firebutt as the Mudkip slammed into him--followed by more yelps as sharp claws raked at Rush's flank painfully.

"Rush, Tackle again!"  
"Firebutt, use Thunder Punch!"

Aurton froze as the Monferno gave a thin, sinister smile, drawing back a crackling fist. Pow! As Rush bounded forward, Firebutt socked the Mudkip in the face, sparks flashing as the Mudkip tumbled back and hit the ground

Falling to his knees, Aurton cradled Rush in his hands, speechless. "Ska-doosh!" yelled Mark as he recalled Fireutt. "Thought you could win just because you have the type advantage? Ha, owned! OWNED! IN YOUR FACE!"

Shaking with silent rage, Aurton took out a potion aerosal and tended to Rush's wounds, trying not to lash out. [i]I did my best. I had no regrets.[/i] That's what he was supposed to say after losing a battle. Come on, say it. But he just couldn't.

"Good game," he mumbled, fishing out a five-hundred yen bill and handing it to Mark. But even saying those words pissed him off. Just looking at Mark's face pissed him off.

"That's right! In your face," sneered Mark. He cupped his hands around his mouth to form a tunnel. "Slick-footed loser!" Kicking dirt into Aurton's face, he recalled the Chimchar and sauntered off as the younger boy howled and clawed at his eyes.

Slowly, Rush got to his paws as Mark's footsteps faded into the distance, breathing heavily, shakily. He should have won. He had the advantage, didn't he? But he just couldn't do it. After such a humiliating loss, Aurton surely had no more use for him.

But to his surprise, he felt his trainer's warm touch on his head. "Hey, Rush," whispered Aurton through clenched teeth, trying to wipe his stinging eyes clean. "We... we're not gonna let that guy go so easy, right?"

Turning, the Mudkip stared up at Aurton, his heart pounding. Could it be? "Kip kip," Rush whispered back, his eyes tearing up. Climbing up his trainer's arm, he carefully wiped Aurton's eyes clean with his fin, a tiny smile forming. "Kip, mud mud."

If this boy wouldn't give up... then he wouldn't either. One day, the Mudkip promised silently, the two of them would be Champions. "Mud mud... mud kip!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next LotE Bonus story features a pair of guest characters, Torch and Rose. They're from a roleplay that my series shares a universe with.


	3. Meanwhile, at Mt. Hemos...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hundred miles north of Kanto, two lovers settle down for the night when they spot what appears to be an army...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Torch and Rose are guest characters originally from "Pokemon to the Rescue," a popular roleplay on Route 50 back in 2010. I wrote this story because the Exile series intersects very briefly with the PttR series. However, PttR is not mine! Torch and Rose belong to SkyWarrior and Frosti respectively, who are also the owners of PttR. Once again: These are guest characters!

*~P~*~T~*~T~*~R~*

The Quilava's back was a smoky orange instead of blue, as it had been since he was born. "I can hear its heartbeat," said Torch in a hushed voice, his ear against the fire-colored egg. He couldn't help a goofy smile. "Can you believe it? We're finally going to be parents."

"Yes, very soon," agreed Rose. The Vulpix curled her warm tails around her egg, their egg. She would smile, but... "I just hope this one makes it."

Torch cringed; then, he shook his head, recovering. "Of course it will," the Quilava said fiercely, taking her paw. "I'll do everything I can. I'll make sure this egg hatches proper-- ow!"

The Vulpix's eyes widened as her husband stood up too quickly, accidentally banging his head on the rock wall. "Torch! You alright?"

The Quilava plopped back down, holding his nose. "Yeah. Jeez, that hurt." He tried to sound grumpy, but couldn't help chuckling. After a moment, Rose laughed as well.

Many Pokemon proudly called Mount Hemos home, but Torch especially loved the Blaze Caves. After all, these were the caves where he and his siblings were raised. This was where his fierce mother and his hopeful father started their family...

And now, Torch was raising a family of his own. "I wonder if they'll be a Vulpix or a Cyndaquil," said the Quilava, patting the egg gently.

Suddenly, he glanced up, his expression becoming serious. "Say, is there a festival tonight?"

Rose blinked. "Not that I know of, why?"

His ears prickled. "Because..." Low, heavy chanting echoed in the distance. The steady thumps of many pawsteps, moving in unison. The rustle of tall grass, parting to make way for a great crowd. "Hang on a bit."

It happened very recently, the mysterious change in the wind. A sudden chill, a loss of order. Even now, he felt unsettled, as if walking along a narrow branch without a net below to catch him.

Padding outside, Torch stared out over the moonlit plains beyond the canyon. In the distance, he could see dozens of Pokemon marching in the cool night, crossing south toward Kanto. "What on earth is going on...?"

*~P~*~T~*~T~*~R~*

"Roathaus might know something," said Rose the next morning. "Keep the egg warm until I get back, okay?"

Torch nodded. "Good luck, dear," he said, curling up around their egg, surrounding it in his warm fur. "Hope he has some answers!" Smiling, the Vulpix headed outside.

Early morning. The sky was still overcast above the canyon. "Morning, Rose," said a Heatmor, emerging from his cave with a stack of iron carapaces. "Heading to the hot springs?"

The Vulpix blinked. "Not at all," she said politely to her neighbor. "I'm going to see the old dragon."

"Oh? Well, say hello to him for me!" Chuckling, the Heatmor padded off to dispose of his scraps. Rose looked at him oddly, then set off up the mountain.

Mount Hemos was the king of the volcanic range which cut across the land, extending almost from coast to coast. Very few humans had ever set foot here.

Though the Madman had raided the Blaze Caves four years ago, even he never dared to cross Mount Hemos and enter the isolated valley beyond. And thus, the old volcano brought a warm, comforting glow.

She was close to the summit. Rose could sense the dragon's noble-blue soul, over by the crater's rim. In his lap, the Dragonite cradled a large, black blade. His golden scales were faded with age, his eyes peaceful.

The Vulpix bowed respectfully. "Good morning, Roathaus."

He looked back at her. "Good morning to you as well, Rose," he said calmly. "How is the family?"

She smiled. "Torch's doing fine. We're both doing wonderfully." Padding forward, Rose joined him at the crater. "Hopefully, nothing unexpected happens."

The Dragonite had lived on the mountain for a very long time, Rose knew. Longer than Torch's family. Perhaps longer than any living human had walked the earth. "Oh? What sort of thing might happen?" he chuckled.

She gazed down into the gently bubbling crwter, steam rising in misshapen spirals. "Something like that crowd of traveling Pokemon, last night," said Rose. "Did you see them?"

Roathaus's smile vanished. The Dragonite's posture shifted ever so slightly, the steam veiling his eyes. "Yes," he said darkly. "I saw it, too."

Rose gazed toward the horizon. "We've never seen such a large-scale migration," she remarked. "I wonder if it's the largest in history."

"That was no mere migration," said the old dragon darkly. drawing his large, leathery wings close to his body, draping over his shoulders like a Charizard's. "It is as the legends say. The Exile returns, and the White Tyrant marches south, waving the banners of hell."

A normal Pokemon would have surely felt some chill. Yet, perhaps because of all she'd experienced at the hands of the Madman, Rose was only curious. "The Exile? You mean... that ancient dragon in the north?"

"Yes." The Dragonite turned his sword over and over. staring into the crater. Then, shaking his head, he sighed. "But do not worry, Rose. These lands belong to the Vulcanite League. They will not let the Exile harm us..."

*~P~*~T~*~T~*~R~*

Peeking out of his cave, Torch stared at the Rhyperior.

Sableyes and Timburrs filed into the canyon behind the Rhyperior, all carrying the same acrid scent. Across the canyon, two Croagunks were escorting a Magmar from his cave.

The Quilava's eyes widened. Next to the Rhyperior stood an Infernape, his sash bearing the Vulcanite crest: a heart shaped from crisscrossed wings of flame.

Glancing around, Torch spotted his neighbor a few feet away. "Hey, Fabian," he hissed. "What's going on?"

The Growlithe blinked. "Don't you know? Vulcanites are at war. Best keep your head down if you don't want to be drafted." Stunned, the Quilava stared as Fabian padded away.

*~P~*~T~*~T~*~R~*

"War," repeated Torch as he and Rose piled soft bedding into a nest around their egg. "War again."

It brought back memories. Some good, some bad. His noble parents, slain by the Croconaw's jaws. Traveling with Rose, Skyribbon, and Denki. The black ditto that seized control of him, making him turn on Rose--

"This can't be a mere coincidence," said Rose suddenly. "Ho-Oh had a key role in the Exile's legend. If the Vulcanites are calling a draft now, when the Exile's marching south..."

Anxious, Torch stared at the egg. "The Golden Conclave wouldn't stand a chance against an army that big," he muttered. The flames on his back quivered. "You think they can stop Giratina?"

*~P~*~T~*~T~*~R~*

A chill settled over the Blaze Caves that night. Summer's heat was slowly waning, fading.

Shivering, Rose stirred. Her shoulder was sore, her head hazy. Soft, helpless cries haunted her dreams, echoing in her ears, tugging at her heart.

Clenching her teeth, the Vulpix checked on the egg. Their precious egg. Yes, still warm, still pulsing, still gently rocking. Slowly, she released a long breath.

A paw on her shoulder. "Hey," murmured the Quilava. "You should get some rest."

Rose's entire body shook. "Torch--" She couldn't help it. Turning, she buried her face in the Quilava's chest, silently sobbing into his fur.

"Yeah." Torch was trembling too. But still, he gently wrapped his paws around her, comforting her. "They'll be okay... we'll be okay."

Glancing at the egg once more, they returned to their bedding. "Hey, Torch?" whispered Rose. "I... I don't want to get drafted. I d-don't want anything to happen to our child..."

Gazing at the ceiling, Torch nodded and squeezed her paw. "Me either."

*~P~*~T~*~T~*~R~*

The morning brought distant chirps of Pidgeys and Spearows. An Arcanine came bounding up to Torch's and Rose's cave. "Eyyo!" he called.

Blinking, Torch went to the entrance, Rose just behind him. "King!" exclaimed the Quilava, incredulous. "What brings you here--hey!"

The Quilava stumbled over as the grinning Arcanine licked his face. "Hey, how's my favorite brother and sister-in-law?" said King cheerfully.

"The geysers frothed early this spring, so the hot springs had their share of visitors," said Rose, smiling. "We're doing well, overall."

The Arcanine glanced at the egg in its bed of straw and smirked. "Doing very well, I see."

Rose blushed and looked away. "Why don't I get you something to drink?" said Torch a little too quickly.

Over three bowls of spring water, King and the couple exchanged gossip and filled each other in on recent news.

"Good old Blaze Caves," murmured King, looking around the room. "Sis would be glad to see you two turned out all right."

Torch and Rose looked at each other. "You and Flower could always come home," offered Torch. "If you two ever stop roaming the world, I mean."

King, Flower, and Torch. Three happy siblings, with two of the best parents any cub could ask for. That's how it was at the beginning, before the Madman's hunts.

No, no need to think about the Madman now. Aramos had been dead for four years. But just because one evil person was gone, didn't mean they were safe. Especially... especially if the Vulcanites were at war--

King drank from his bowl thoughtfully. "Say, Torch. Would you mind coming with me for a bit? I just want to check on something."

Torch nodded. "Sure thing," he said. He looked at Rose. "Wanna come along?"

The Vulpix shook her head, smiling. "That's all right. You hang out with your brother."

King rose to his paws, Torch following suit. "We'll be back by evening," said the Arcanine, dipping his head. "Rose, nice seeing you."

"No no, the pleasure is all mine," replied Rose, waving her tails as they padded outside. Then, getting up, she padded over to her egg and lay back down, sighing.  
  
*~P~*~T~*~T~*~R~*

They padded over boulders and along narrow ledges, making their way to the far side of Mount Hemos. "Neither of you said anything about the soldiers," said King quietly, his cheer gone.

Torch sighed. "War has nothing to do with us, these days," said the Quilava. They were moving down a narrow ravine now, flanked by tall crags on either side. "Rose and I want to focus on raising a family."

King looked back at Torch sadly. "You've never been to the Golden Conclave, have you?" Golden Conclave. Or as humans called it, Cinnabar Island. Seat of the Vulcanite League. "You really think they'll let you escape the draft? You know what Heatran's policies are like."

Torch grimaced. "It can't have always been like this. The League never had this kind of power in Mom's day." But that was all he could say. Heatran had ruled the Vulcanite League rigidly since before his birth.

His eye caught a blur of movement. "Look out!" As King spun around, Torch somersaulted into the shadow descending on his brother, flaring with sudden, vicious flames.

"Aieeeee!" shrieked the burning Gligar as Torch tackled him to the ground, pincers clicking uselessly. "Whyyyy... augh." His body jerked one last time, and then crumbled into a charred mess.

Torch and King stared at the Gligar's remains, stunned. "Oops," was all that Torch could manage to say.

"Well, in any event... thanks," said King. He glanced down the path. "Looks like we're almost there, anyway. Keep quiet, okay?" Rolling his eyes, Torch followed his brother with careful pawsteps.

They heard a mass of voices, growing louder as they approached. At the end of the path, Torch and King stared down into the crowded basin below. A military camp!

A dozen, perhaps two dozen Rhyperiors milled along the perimeter, Mismagii and Porygon-Zs patrolling from overhead. Rampardoses, Haunters, Pinsirs, Bibarels, Aipoms, Timburrs, Sableyes; perhaps over a hundred Pokemon in all.

"Cease your rabble. Lord Horizon speaks." On a high, flat rock stood a Tyranitar with white scales, overlooking the soldiers. Immediately, the entire camp went silent.

"The cracks in mankind continue to fracture," growled Horizon, holding up a fist. "The north isles have fallen. The bays of the north have fallen. Now, the cities to the south, too, shall fall!"

Torch shifted uncomfortably. But why? "For the Exile, for the Exile!" chanted the soldiers. "Reclaim what is ours. In the name of Giratina, Giratina the Exile!"

Lord Horizon swept his arm over the camp. "Mikael. Bring forth the recruits."

Dumbfounded, Torch stared blankly as the camp parted to make way for an Infernape. But not just any Infernape. The Infernape with the Vulcanite sash. The one at the Blaze Caves yesterday...

As Mikael passed a pair of Haunters, his red sash changed. Gold trim became black, the Vulcanite crest replaced by another emblem: three scarlet rings linked by golden chains. The forbidden symbol. The symbol of the banished god, Giratina.

Chuckling, the Infernape bowed before the white Tyranitar. "Kekekeke... We offer you fresh meat, Horizon," said Mikael proudly. Behind the Infernape followed six, seven, eight more Pokemon, all blindfolded.

Mikael tore off one recruit's blindfold and pushed him forward. "Heatmor?" whispered Torch, staring at the recruit. Yes, that was unmistakably was the Heatmor who lived next door. Bewildered and terrified, Heatmor stared up at at Horizon, unable to speak.

Just then, a Scizor glided over to the Tyranitar. "Horizon, sir?" said the Scizor. "Private Delm was standing guard earlier. He's now dead."

Both Torch and King froze. "We've got intruders," growled the Tyranitar, one fist tightening. "Thank you, Scar. You are dismissed. All units on alert!"

Eyes widening, King shook Torch. "Hey, come on," hissed the Arcanine. "Let's get out of here!" Nodding, Torch hurried after his brother, and out of sight.

*~P~*~T~*~T~*~R~*  
  
"Well, we checked out their camp," puffed Torch as he returned to the cave. "Hey, Rose? I don't think we'll have to worry about the Vulcanites. They're not fighting against the Exile. They're fighting with him."

Rose blinked. "Then... that army we saw the other night-"

"Yeah. They've got plenty of soldiers. We won't be drafted if we don't want to fight..." The cities in the south. "Really... we didn't need to worry at all. They're fighting the human cities."

The Vulpix sighed in relief. She touched a tail to the key hanging from her neck. "Well... whatever happens to humans, humans are humans, right?"

"Yeah... who knows." The Quilava winced with each step, his pawpads sore. Today had been a long day, after all, and he hadn't been on his paws this much in a while.

Rose chuckled and sighed. "This is what happens when you don't train for a while," chided the Vulpix, nudging him. "What'll you do at the next Vulcanite tournament? They only give five-minute breaks between matches, you know."

He shook his head. "I'm not joining another tournament until old Heatran steps down! Can't stand him breathing down everyone's necks. Besides, we'll run into [i]her[/i] again."

Rose grimaced. "Ooh... right."

An awkward silence. Torch's cousin, Embyr, was a Vulcanite captain at Cinnabar... and an utter nuisance since he was young.

"Well, the Vulcanites won't fall anytime soon," said King thoughtfully. Torch glanced up as his brother padded over to the entrance. "Not too fond of the Exile roaming around... but it can't be helped."

Rose glanced at Torch. "Yeah," said the Vulpix, smiling slightly, touching the Quilava's cheek. "I'm just glad they didn't recruit you, Torch."

"Haha, yeah. I can't go off fighting wars when we've got an egg to raise!" And yet, for some reason, Torch still felt uneasy....

King smiled and closed his eyes. "Anyway, looks like you're holding up fine, brother. And Rose, nice seeing you again. Let's meet up again sometime, a'ight?"

"Yeah. Take care on the road!" The couple waved as King padded outside, setting out into the unknown once more.

As King's pawsteps faded into the distance, Torch sank to the floor. "Eh? You okay?" asked Rose, poking his belly with a paw. "Come on, let's get to bed."

"Yeah, thanks," he mumbled back.

They collapsed into their nest. Tilting her neck slightly, Rose gently kissed her egg. "Good night, Damien," she murmured. Growing cozy, she winked at Torch. "Now for you..."

Slowly, the Vulpix ran her glossy, black paws over his back, then brushing down his soft belly fur. "Hey, that tickles," mumbled the Quilava, heat rising in his cheeks.

Rose kissed him on the nose. "I know," she said playfully.

The Quilava's eyes glowed like tiny flames, contained in chips of pulsing coals. "Why are you always so cute?" he whispered into her ear as she hugged him tightly.

Her ears twitched happily. "That's what I should be asking you." She trembled as Torch gently nipped at her warm neck, tiny rings of smoke rising from his nostrils.

Her throat tingled as he worked his way up to her jawline, his mouth and nose and warm breath tickling her fur. Excitement tingled down her spine, her tails wiggling in joy.

Softly licking at the air, like the tongues of a crackling fire. Tails uncurling, her pawpads rubbed against his, hot tingles running up his leg, through his body...

Suddenly, there was a scream in the distance. Torch froze. "W-what was that?" whispered Rose.

*~P~*~T~*~T~*~R~*

They ran and ran. Up the trail, up the slope, toward the summit of Mount Hemos. "Torch, go back, you're tired," hissed Rose.

"No way," Torch hissed back. "I'm not gonna let you go on your own..."

"You're so stubborn," pouted the Vulpix. Out of the corner of her mouth, she added, "But that's what I like about you." Heat rushing to his cheeks, Torch grinned sheepishly and pretended not to hear.

The duo gasped as they reached the summit. Roathaus was surrounded by six Dusknoirs, his black blade lying out of reach. A mesh of black energy covered the Dragonite's body, pinning his wings against his back.

On each Dusknoir's cloak was a six-petaled flower, three of black and three of white. "What's going on here?" demanded Rose.

The Dusknoirs turned toward them. An eerie red eye oscillated inside each cold, gray visor. "Local residents," said one after a moment. "Ignore them."

They began to march Roathaus away. "Hey!" called Torch angrily, moving in front of the Dusknoirs. "You can't take Roathaus--"

"Stand aside," ordered the lead Dusknoir. "Three. Two. One." When Torch refused to move, the Dusknoir shoved him to the ground.

Snarling, Rose stepped in front of the Quilava, her fur bristling. "I don't know who any of you are, but don't you dare," she spat, tails bristling. "Roathaus! Just hang in there, okay?"

Each Dusknoir's antenna flashed. "Residents are obtstructing duties. Seize them." Turning, the Dusknoirs circled the duo, fists raised, cloaked in shadowy flame.

Torch exchanged a glance with Rose as the Dusknoirs faced them. An old fire was roaring in his belly, the heat of battle...!

"Halt."

Blinking, Torch and Rose turned around as Horizon came trotting up the slope, flanked by Rhyperiors. Immediately, the Dusknoirs relented, lowering their fists.

"What is the meaning of this, dark spawn?" demanded the white Tyranitar, tightening one paw into a fist. "Don't you recognize these two? Torch and Rose. They know the cruelty of man better than any of us. "

The Dusknoirs turned to each other, confused, before returning to formation around Roathaus.

Turning, Lord Horizon looked at Torch and Rose. "I apologize for my fellow soldiers' behavior," said the Tyranitar. "These... [i]Hexwraiths[/i]... are an experimental unit. A twisted joke by one of my colleagues, if you will."

"Soldiers," repeated Torch. He stared at the Tyranitar, still trying to process. "Soldiers for your war on the south?"  
  
Horizon held up a tight fist. "Soldiers for our war on humanity," he said harshly. "The cities of the south are only the beginning. We shall crush all the cities of the world. This is the will of Giratina, the Exiled One."

The Rhyperiors proudly held up their banners. "Giratina has returned to the world and shown us the way," declared the Tyranitar. "Humanity is a sin of the world. And to erase that sin, we need every Pokemon who can fight. Just as you fought in your prime."

Rose's eyes widened. "Think of it," growled Horizon, eyes gleaming. "No one will ever go through what you went through. No one will ever suffer because of humans again."

Torch's eyes widened. Indeed, he knew how terrible humans could be. And yet... something didn't feel right. "If it's about humans, then why are you taking Roathaus?" he demanded.

Horizon's eyes narrowed. "Because Roathaus is Swordwrit, and Swordwrit has always allied with mankind," said the Tyranitar, closing a fist. "We will not allow anyone to save humanity. Not when our work has finally begun."

"That's ridiculous!" protested Rose. "Roathaus hasn't seen a human in years. Humans never come to these parts."

He looked at them adamantly, unyieldingly. "What you think of us is of no concern," said Lord Horizon. "All that matters is that you not interfere. Our crusade must come to fruition. For your own safety, do not obstruct us. Even heroes such as you cannot turn us back now!"

At a loss for words, Rose clung to Torch's arm as Horizon and the Hexwraiths descended the mountain with the immobilized Roathaus. One by one, captors and captive disappeared into the night.

*~P~*~T~*~T~*~R~*

"I'm not too fond of humans, of course," said Rose the next morning. "But I guess we haven' really much experience with them. Other than... you know..."

"Yeah." Torch stared toward the horizon. "I... I'm not too sure I like what the Exile is doing either. How is what he's doing to humans all that different from what the Madman did to us?"

Rose shifted uncomfortably, a tail touching her key. "A-at least the Exile is killing them. Aramos... wouldn't even give Scorch that kind of peace."

There was a long silence.

"Would you have preferred the Madman kill Scorch?" pressed Torch. "It's easy to say things like that after all these years... but back then..."

The Vulpix sighed. "No. You're right. They're... they're both doing awful things. And it's not right for them to take away Roathaus like that." Rose gently rested a paw on their egg. "He's just an old, harmless Dragonite. But... there's nothing we can do about it."

Torch nodded grimly. "Maybe we've been relaxing too long..."

Getting up, the Vulpix fetched a roll of leaf-paper. Incinerating a lump of wood, she rubbed the charcoal on her paw. "What're you doing?" asked Torch, frowning.

"Writing my cousin a letter," said Rose, quickly scrawling out a message in clawstroke script. "I bet Shanala knows something about what's going on."

He opened one eye, amused. "Shanala? What sort of name is that?"

Rose sighed, laughing. "That's what her trainer named her, mind you. She doesn't bother with her birth name anymore. See? Humans are weird..."

*~P~*~T~*~T~*~R~*

Months passed without word.

And then, one morning. there was a knock from the entrance. Frowning, Torch got up to find a Houndoom waiting outside their cave. "Is this the home of Torch and Rose?" he asked.

"I'm Torch, and this is Rose," said the Quilava. The Houndoom's pendant carried the Vulcanite crest. "What's this about?"

"Lieutenant Marrow of the Vulcanites," said the Houndoom, dipping his head. "Torch, I'm afraid I must inform you that your cousin, Embyr, was killed in action."

"O-oh." The Quilava shifted uncomfortably. Maybe the struggle against the Madman had desensitized him. Or, perhaps it was because he and Embyr had never been all that close. But the news... just didn't seem to impact him as it should. "What happened?"

The Houndoom hesitated. "She... ah... tried to kill the new king. Attacked him during the coup. We'd all waited years for his arrival, but not her, it seems. Even then, he didn't want to kill her. But we had to step in."

Torch looked down at his paws uncomfortably. Rose frowned. "Wait! The way you said it made it sound like she died an honorable death. Or something."

Marrow sighed. "That's because the new king wanted me to say it that way. The 'purity of love', or something. Nonsense. Love isn't pure anymore when you use it to excuse hatred."

Rose's eyes widened. The Houndoom's words pierced her heart. After all, hadn't she herself been willing to accept Giratina's slaughter of humans?

Four years ago, the Madman destroyed Torch's family. Four years ago, the Madman captured her brother. Even now, she still carried the key that had unlocked her brother's cage.

But in the end, those were the actions of one human. A human who had been rejected by other humans, at that.

There might well be more humans like that. There might be many humans who would do cruel, selfish things. But even so... she shouldn't assume things about every human from the start.

"Um," said the Vulpix tentatively. "We heard that an army of Pokemon was marching south to kill humans. Did... did any humans survive...?"

Marrow smiled weakly. "Some. Not many. But some. And we're finding more each day..."

As if remembering something, the Houndoom reached into his mailbag. "One more thing. Here's a letter from the king." Marrow deposited a letter at their paws. "Now, good day."

They stared as he trotted off. "Hey, wait," said Torch, pointing at the letter. "That's the official Vulcanite crest. Must be important."

"Yeah," said Rose as she opened the letter. "Seems to be about the coronation of the new king. And..." Her eyes widened. "And he's taken Shanala as his queen!"

Torch blinked as she handed the letter to him. "Congrats to her! And as for the new king..." He squinted at the name, written in Unown script. "The heck? I can't read this name. I...n...s..."

" _...instant noodles?!_ "

There was a brief silence. "Okay then!" laughed Rose nervously. Taking their cups, they raised a toast. "Ahem...! Long live King [i]Instant Noodles![/i]"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my readers not from Route 50, the PttR series has plenty of dark moments in its own right. This story was my attempt to give Torch and Rose a bit of a breather. Since PttR and LotE have polar opposites as antagonists, it seemed only natural that Torch and Rose would have the most happiness at the height of conflicts in LotE.


	4. Slick: Fall From Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LotE Bonus #4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story actually existed before I started Volume IV, but I'm including it in the LotE Bonus Story listing, because honestly, that's what this story is. As with the LotE Bonus stories, this contains massive spoilers! At the earliest, do NOT read it before War of Vengeance.

Fall from Grace

Part I: Death

\--------

The blade plunged into my torso with excruciating pain. What had I done to earn this end? To think that after all these battles, after all this fighting--I was easily undone by a single blow?

But of course. The sword had ripped a hole into my chest, forcing my ribcage open. My jacket was hot and sticky. Such a crushing, mangling blow could only be fatal. I stared into the ancient dragon's crimson eyes. Nowhere to run. No strength left to fight.

The horrified cries of my Pokemon filled my ears. My Leafeon's scream, my Raichu's shriek. My Skarmory and my Umbreon, breaking their silence with dreadful wails. And a wounded howl from Rush, my Swampert, my dearest friend.

"Murderer," I spat at the great dragon. This was the one that the wild Pokemon hailed as their crusador, their savior, the master of their revolution? No. These was a monster whose eyes that had wrought the world's death. The legends of ancient Sinnoh were were right to call him savage.

My fingers curled around the blade's hilt, struggling in vain to pull it free. "Allow me," hissed Giratina, his eyes gleaming. A black tentacle shot forward and wrenched the griseous blade free.

The tentacles released me, and I fell to the ground, impact battering my body. Blood splashed out from my chest faster, dribbling down onto the grass. "Why...?" I gasped to the god of darkness, blood heaving from my chest. "Why... why do you hate us so?"

His features dulled ever so slightly, the eyes turning away. "What can I do but destroy my tormentors?" answered the Exile bitterly. "How can I stay the claws of bloodshed, when they have been dry for so long?"

My vision swam, and the dragon's gray scales blurred. Was I not an Elite of Hoenn? Had Mew not promised me the path of a hero? No--I couldn't die yet. There was still so much to do. Who would protect my Pokemon, if I was gone? Who would stand beside my brother, to ensure his world didn't crumble like mine?

"Remember this day in the afterlife, Aurton Slick Silversky," declared Giratina, his eyes flashing as he rose into the sky. "Remember that you can protect nothing in this world! That for all your efforts, for all your hopes, for all your myths, you and Hoenn were ground to dust!"

In the distance, black smoke rose from the crater of Sootopolis. My beloved Hoenn lay in ruins, a crude hull of its former paradise. As the world's enemy departed, I reached a desperate hand to the sky. Giratina had to be stopped--yet I could not stop him.

Desperate hands clasped mine, and a voice cried my name. "Rush," I whispered. The Swampert pawed at me desperately, helplessly. More distraught sobs filled the air. Sparktail, Thalia, Insyte, Ferricia. My Pokemon, my precious friends.

But already, my senses were fading, my sight dimming to black. "No... no," I stammered as my Pokemon clung to me, though I could only barely feel their touch, couldn't even hear myself. "You've got to run... run and survive..."

The remaning fragments of the world disintegrated. Thusly did Aurton Slick Silversky, third of the Hoenn Elite Four, meet his end.

\--------

The gates of the abyss had been sealed for eight millenia. I was trapped in utter darkness: no earth, no sun, no moon, no stars. It was a fleeting eternity, a black heaven, a frozen hell. Above the abyss watched the Adversary who had torn the world apart.

"Mankind is but a plague, a curse upon this earth," cried Giratina to his army, his voice cruel and proud. "Selfish beings who bring death to all! We must take our rightful place as the rulers of our world. Stand with me, for I was cast through time, and cast out from time. I am the Exile."

Lost in this void, in the Passage of the Dead, the memories bled from me. A Pikachu climbing a lonely hill, staring into the distance. A Leafeon emerging from the undergrowth, her eyes widening. A helpless, shivering Eevee at the base of a stone fountain, his tiny cries unnoticed in the crowd. A Mudkip in my hands, staring up at me with apprehension.

Such was the war machine that the Exile had created, a chasm that stripped the dead of the memories of life. No more terror, for there was nothing left to fear; no more agony, for there was nothing left to be hurt; no more confusion, for there was nothing left to know; no more despair, for there was no further to fall. It the bottom of the world's abyss, only the devil waited for me.

\--------

I saw a knight wearing blue mail with silver plating, a five-bladed sword with a jeweled hilt. His eyes were content and free, for he had all the time in the world. His helmet was like a building's skeletal frame; yet it looked to be the most durable piece.

Now another knight joined his side. This one wore white plating that concealed the purple chain-links beneath, and his large shoulder pads were a lustrous pink. Surely, his massive boots could cover the breadth of the earth.

Noticing the second knight, the first turned to face him. Overhead, storm-heads were approaching, casting a shadow on the earth. Though I could not discernn their words, their voices were heavy and and fearful...

\--------

I saw three children standing in a field--a large boy in blue and orange, another boy wearing a black jacket with yellow trim, and a girl in tan with a green ribbon. Nervously, the three spoke to each other, glancing around worriedly.

"Keep him happy and satisfied," said one.

"He's causing grief, but I can't bring myself to tell him," said another.

"I couldn't care less what happens to him," said a third.

On the edge of the field, I saw a fourth child, a boy in a dark gold shirt and brown shorts, eavesdropping on the others. In his eyes, I saw doubt and confusion, fear and regret. Surely, they were talking about him.

But then the girl looked up and saw the boy in dark gold. "You agree, right?" she called to him. "He's caused you trouble too, hasn't he?"

I stared at the children for a long time. Surely, I knew them, for their names were on the tip of my tongue--and yet, I could not seem to name them.

\--------

The knight in blue lay in a rotting garden, its fences collapsed, its stone edging cracked. His body was covered in wounds, his blood soaking into the flowerbed and staining his armor. There was a gaping hole in the middle of his chest-plate.

A talll sorcerer in black approached, holding the knight in white by the throat. White plating had been pried free, exposing violet chainmail. With his free hand, he ripped open the knight's chest and ribcage, crushing his heart. "Woe to my ancient brothers, who watched this world and allowed it to die," spat the sorcerer, flinging down the second knight's body.

Stepping into the garden, the sorcerer knelt by the knight in blue. "Soon, you shall demolish the honor you once upheld." A golden hand reached into the chest-plate cavity, nails digging into the knight's belly.

The knight writhed and screamed as the sorcerer's energy flowed into his body, his veins turning gold and black. His body convulsced as the sorcerer's power filled him; but he could not escape, for the armor that once protected him now trapped him in the garden.

And soon, I could no longer feel sympathy for the warrior.

\--------

"Stop acting like such an idiot," yelled the Mudkip.

"Why didn't you care about me?" cried the Umbreon.

"Stupid kid!" yelled Mark. "You're a such an idiot."

"Look, I'm sorry," sighed Chris. "There's always next year, all right?"

"You fool," accused Steven Stone. "You have destroyed this land for the sake of a fairy tale."

"Remember this always, Aurton Silversky," shouted Giratina. "Remember that you can protect nothing in this world!"

I tried to escape, tried to flee. But I had no legs with which to run, no mouth with which to scream, no hands with which to crawl, no lungs left to fill with breath, no heart left to beat. And at last, I understood.

Light was but a shallow, fleeting force that flickered into existence, briefly feigning its superiority before fading into dust. In the end, only darkness remains. Darkness was not an evil, arcane intrusion, but a natural product, etched into the world's very nature. Surely, even this final chain that refused to vanish was not light, but darkness...?

\--------

Part II: Awakening

\--------

I saw an approaching figure, growing larger and clearer with every step. And then, when he was almost upon me, I recognized the knight in blue, his armor stained with thin, gold streaks.

"This is the one blessed by Mew," said the gaunt knight, pointing at me. His posture had become erratic, his eyes twitching, as far from his chivalrous self as possible. "Woe to him who is chosen by the Mystic of Hope as the pillar of the world." And kneeling, he reached for me with a bloodstained gauntlet--

I was clinging to the edge of a great pit, a great vortex of shadows beneath me. I stared down at my translucent, glowing body in disbelief. Struggling against the tug of the abyss, I climbed out from the pit and sprawled on the ground, staring at the broken world around me.

Heaven and earth had melted into each other, the world flickering red and blue. I saw landmasses and bodies of water floating in mdair in every direction, scattered throughout the infinite darkness, detatched from the ground.

I saw the rubble of fallen cities, mass graves spilling open with thousands of corpses, rising and falling. Castles, villages, towers, mansions, ships and planes; I saw the echoes of entire civilizations, crushed into dust.

I shivered. I could feel the wind upon my skin, and it was cold. Cold? When did I have this body, these blackened limbs? When was I able to feel again, to touch again? But it didn't matter. I had a self, a form that I could call my own. Rain-drenched asphalt and burning sulfur wafted from the great abyss, and my nostrils burned.

The dragon loomed above me like a dancing flame, golden armor over a cobalt-blue body. A glowing red crystal was set in his chestplate, his claws yellow as sulfur. I felt a sudden rush of fear and excitement. "What is this?" I asked the dragon.

"Place... of... death," hissed Primal Dialga, small bits of foaming saliva forming on the corner of his mouth. "Before... death... all... see."  
  
Death? Surely, I was not dead. For I was newly born. "If this is the world of death, then why am I here?"

His eyes narrowed. "You, you are different," spat the dragon, the slab shaking with his every step. "Cursed by the Mystic, cursed by your fellow man. Cursed by your friends and foes alike! CURSED! CURSED! CURSED!"

And he, too, cursed me.

\--------

Down the lonely tunnel, back into the infinite daylight. Blood filled my arteries and veins, and I ran with pure delight. I followed the celestial path which wound between civilization and wilderness, between bloody war and tranquil peace. There were others on that path, but their bodies were weak, incomparable to mine--I, who blazed with sheer life.

  
There was a king with a golden crown and a magnificently billowing crimson cape lined with white fur, his eyes sharp with regal condescending arrogance. There was a female wolf with rippling muscles and vivid golden eyes, her fur sleek and silky as her soft-pink tongue ran seductively over her fangs with drool, her body emanating an overwhelming scent of roses.

There was a great grizzly bear with a bulging belly that was swollen with girth and immense poundage, gnawing on a slab of raw meat even as it ran. There was a giant rat, its paws nimble and fast even with the massive sack on its back which brimmed with thousands of jewels and gold coins.

There was a tiger whose eyes seared blood-red with flaming passion, the stripes of his fur like a raging fire as it bared its teeth with fury. There was a creature with thick shaggy black fur and sunken bulging yellow eyes, its chin thick with streams of drool, its six-inch-long fingers clawing longingly at the air with every step it took. Then there was a great lethargic serpent whose fangs were like wicked daggers on the rare occasion that it should open its mouth the barest crack, crawling as sluggishly as if its body was as heavy as solid lead; and it gave up the journey far more quickly than the others.

Every last one of their accursed hides were buried within the purest hell. Yet I was greater than all of them, for I ran onwards when they fell back. It was I alone who rushed into the darkness, seizing it and claiming it. And it was I, carrying that last chain, who would claim the original chaos that had predated the world...

\--------

_In the beginning, the darkness stood before the eternal judge of all things, the one who bore his holy wheel and saw all things. The darkness saw the Original One who gave light to an empty husk of a world and filled it with vibrancy. He gazed into the darkness, and laid it bare for all to see._

_The lord of silver watched the world from afar, and the lord of gold ruled with fiery glory. The leviathan of the sea held the origin, and the behemoth of the land held the demise. Overflowing with the power of the Aether, the essences of nature gave birth to the dragon of the divine wind. Under their watch, the Tanuki had prospered, spreading to every land._

_But the sky would soon be stained with blood. Soon, meteors from beyond the stars would arrive, carrying the army of the Invaders. And thus, the final three columns of the world were created at the hands of the Original One. From the Tanuki's rich history, three souls were summoned into newly constructed bodies. Dialga, keeper of time's river. Palkia, keeper of space's fabric. And the third..._

_I was a soul of nature; I was the embodiment of misfortune. Ruin and Calamity, Despair and Decay. Darkness flowed unto me, and I flowed into him. "I am he who binds the dark gates," I said as I ascended into life. "I am the keeper of the eternal void, the Passage of the Dead." Satisfied, the One raised his head to the sky with a mighty roar._

_Ashen gray scales covered my black and red skin like a robe. Three golden braces were placed upon me, binding me to my body. With each brace on my upper body, a pair of gold spikes emerged from either side of of my lower body._

_Then, the One placed a horned helmet upon my head, closing the gaping cavity that was my mouth. I screamed as six black tentacles burst out from my spine, each tipped with one of the six crimson keys of the eternal void. My sight was stained a bloody red, outlining every scratch and every imperfection on the world._

_But when the pain finally died away, I gazed up at the Original One, and I felt the tide of darkness forming upon me, enshrouding my body in a wave of death-shadows that could blot out the sun. Bneath the woven darkness, my flesh was imbued with life by the power over death, and I no longer felt raw and helpless. I raised my maw to the churning green skies, and cried out my new name: "GI-RA-TI-NA!"_

I stared at my body, sewn from the paltry fabric of death. I feared to move, lest my body collapse into dust. But slowly, the veil between me and the world lifted. The golden spikes on my lower body swelled into legs, my six tentacles melting into a pair wings. The crescent helmet split open, shifting back and up into a crown.

Then, my fingers found a scar on my upper body, the place that would have been my chest. The point of my death--and the place of the final chain that bound me. "Some things cannot be taken away," hissed a voice from the Passage of the Dead. "Some wounds are too terrible to erase forever."

But I smiled, for the remnant of the wound would remind me forever that I was alone to face my foes when I died, that my tormentors could never be forgiven. My past was dead and gone, the pitiful weakling of my old life nothing but a myth now. I would unite the world of the wilderness and the world of civilization, and forever would the creatures of the earth know my name!

For I was power itself, the embodiment of all that was and ever would be, the eternal shadow and the infinite night. I was the beast who had been cast into the eternal abyss, but clawed my way back up into the realm of the living. I was the dragon who guarded life and death, who saw serenity in the most turbulent chaos and love in the most violent war.

Six wings and six crimson spikes screamed of our sheer power. We stood before the gates of the Void, and he dwelled in the very core of the earth. We were the shadows once forgotten long ago and now again, one and the same forever.

_Once upon a time, the Tanuki had two champions. Ho-Oh of the rising sun. Lugia of the dreaming moon. They reigned supreme, for their wings ruled over the heavens. But a great force came to invade our planet, and their combined power could not drive them out._

_So the Tanuki called upon the ancient power from deep within the planet. Groudon of the molten crater. Kyogre of the raging storm. Rayquaza of the divine wind. But even with the planet's blessing, the Invaders returned with each cycle._

_In desperation, the Tanuki prayed to the Egg from Beyond. From the Egg, the Original One was born. From the Original One, three dragons were born. Dialga of crystalline time. Palkia of woven space. And I, Giratina of the eternal void._

_And so, I stood beside my seven brethren, my friend and family, my eyes glinting with crimson light. For we were no longer two and three and three, but Eight Columns. Together, we watched the falling meteors, preparing for battle._

_Earth and sea and sundered sky; Time and space and darkness nigh," chanted Rayquaza, the eldest of the eight. "The ancient hero gives his mythic call; by life and light, the shadows fall." As the coming of the Invader drew near, we glanced to each other, and then sprang up into the air to meet the Invaders with outstretched claws and fangs..._

_Yes. That ancient battle against the Invaders was glorious. I shall never forget how my claws and teeth shredded apart the Deoxys, a savage blade that cut through the army of the Invaders. It was thanks to us that the world had a chance to exist. It was thanks to us that the creatures called Pokemon were able to come into existence._

_But an eternity passed, and the eight drifted apart. No longer were we inseparable alllies, but distant foes. Why had things decayed so much? Why? Why should fellow Columns of the world be unable to see eye-to-eye? Why had we become so separated, so unwilling to communicate, and why had we built up such barriers between each other?_

That distance should have never formed. If only we had remained in touch, remembered how close we had once been, we would never have lost our connections. I was alone to face the eternal grief, alone upon my lonely pedastal of power. Why did they forget me? Why did they leave me to empty desires and hollow dreams?

_But my attention was soon diverted. A new power, the human race was rising in prominence. A new invasion threatened to grasp hold of this world and claim it as its own, and I would rise with all my strength to defend it. Perhaps, in the face of this new peril, my siblings would soften their rivaling hearts. I called out to them from the depths of the great chasm that was my home._

_I shrieked their names in the ancient tongues of spirit and flame, of time and space, of land and sea and sky. I waited for their arrival, waited for them to come to our aid, so that we might stand together against a rising evil once more. I waited and waited and waited and waited, crying out to them more desperately as the humans grew in strength and power with every year. And then, when nearly a century had passed, and not one of them had arisen against mankind, I gave up._

_If they want to abandon us, I thought bitterly, then I shall let them. I hated them all for how they recoiled from me, despised them for who they were. They were bodies of light, no less alien to this world than the Invader. But I was the darkness! I was the eternal shadows that all things were born with! I was Giratina!_

_They would all pay. Every last one of them would die, and the last thing they would see before death would be my vengeance. But before I struck at my brethren, I would raise my own forces against humanity. I would rally the living and the dead to my side and obliterate mankind in a tide of shadow._

_I drew forth the fiber of pure shadows from darkest hell and wove them into fine cloaks befitting grim reapers. And when my labor was complete, I dove into the depths of Distortion, and locked the gates I had been created to defend. No longer would this eternal void be the Passage of the Dead, but the Forge of Malice. Even if it meant shredding open the boundary of the world, I would protect the natural shadow from humanity's scourge!_

\--------

_When my forces first stepped out into the open, Dialga and Palkia and their knights rose up to meet them in battle. For ten years we clashed viciously, dragon against dragon, brother against brother, warriors against warriors, destroyers against destroyers, and in all that time neither they nor I had gained an advantage._

_We were locked into a bitter struggle that would never cease, our legendary cries rallying forth fresh waves of soldiers to our sides. Foolish beasts! Did they not understand what I intended to protect the world from? Did they not see the impending doom that would soon arrive on the shores of this continent? I would destroy the ones who would change us, crush every last one of the human race._

_Locked into a ten-year stalemate, unable to advance and unable to retreat, we called upon the grim reaper, the collector of souls, the one who delivered the spirits to the realm we guarded. In a moment of desperation, we sent the Nachtfurien to sabotage Temporal Tower, Dialga's home and the lone pillar that held the flow of time in balance._

_I never expected him to succeed, yet I was stunned at how close he came to ripping that pillar of time to bits... and at how narrowly Dialga snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. I sent forth my servant to take his revenge on the mudkip and the vulpix whom Dialga had called out to._

_But I retreated into the Chasm and declared a truce with Dialga and Palkia, for I realized there would be no purpose to fight them any longer. I watched as Kyogre created the Beast of the Sea and Groudon created Krakatoa, and I believed they would not weaken themselves with shallow promises of light._

_And then came the day that humanity arrived on the shores of Kanto, and my blood began to boil with fury as I hurled myself into the forge of war with a bloodlusting fervor. Mankind would not destroy me; they would not corrupt the world with their folly! I would crush them all and scatter their ashes across the world, destroy them before they tore me down from my place!_

_Ghosts of fallen souls flickered into existence before my eyes, their corpses rising from the dust to heed my cry. I extended my wings of blackest night that could sweep aside the scattered dust of stars and blot out the evening sky, and I channeled forth my infinite energy into the crimson glowing spikes on my wings. I smashed gravestones and crypts and fashioned thousands of cursed keystones from the rubble._

_From a shard of chaos, I forged a weapon of darkness--a Griseous Orb that would embody my soul. By this blade, I swore, I would destroy my tormentors forever. As I summoned my legions of shadows to my aid, I swept upon the humans like a raging maelstrom..._

_But then Rayquaza awoke to their cries, swooping down from his divine perch to heed the frantic summons of man. It was Rayquaza, the Divine Wind, who raised his forces to clash with mine. It was through him that the Red and Blue Orbs were forged. He bound the souls of Groudon and Kyogre togther to bring an end to their conflict, and together the three titans of Hoenn united their great armies against me to save the pitiful tide of mankind._

_They were soon joined by Dialga and Palkia, who still bore anger against me from our first war; and not too long after, the humans cried out for the aid of Lugia and Ho-oh as well. I sent my soldiers against them again and again, bitterly forcing them to drive viciously through our foes to destroy mankind. Yet even with my centuries of preparation, our battles were bloody and futile..._

_And then, four centuries of stalemate was broken by the human hero Aluxiver. Abruptly, the world turned upon me, betraying me before the eyes of all. Awed by that accursed youth, my armies began to desert me, rallying behind Mew the Virtuous. With the aid of Ho-Oh and Lugia, Aluxiver struck me down in my own fortress._

_I was cast down from my pedastal, torn down from my shrine of power by my own peers. For my desperate crusade, I was branded a violent miscreant, and banished into this broken world. Yet, even from the chaos, I saw the blight unfold. I watched as Mew and Aluxiver forged their pact--as if such a thing could satisfy the needs of Pokemon!_

_I saw how Groudon, Kyogre, and Rayquaza retreated into slumber, allowing humans to run rampant. I saw how Lugia hid himself far from human eyes, retreating deep within his shimmering sanctuary. I saw how Palkia and Ho-oh swore covenants with mankind, promising to protect them so long as humanity showered them with gifts of pearls and gold and honored them forever._

_I watched bitterly as Dialga gave humans the Hidden Land, buring Temporal Tower deep underground until only the uppermost spire was visible. How could they tolerate the human race, and allow them to permeate every corner of the world with their corruption? How could they betray me so easily- I, who had only longed to stand beside them in battle?!_

Adrift in the chaos, I felt for the old scar upon my chest. Betrayal and abandonment. The eternal tragedy of Giratina would forever repeat itself, cursed to suffer at the hands of the world. Gazing deep into the swirling void at the heart of the chaos, I narrowed my eyes to crimson slits, thrashing my tentacle-wings against the endless sea of debris, consumed in a surge of fury.

From the cycle of fates, a single mind rose from the ashes, hideous and raw- yet fierce and destructive. For now I saw as darkness saw, heard as darkness heard, sensed as darkness sensed. I saw now that everything was corrupt in the world of order, and everything was meaningless in the world of chaos.

But this vengeance shall not end. Chaos is eternal. Chaos does not die. I would see humanity purged from the planet--and I would desecrate the bloodline of Mew with it. Ours is the world of Pokemon. We shall bring it back under the rule of Pokemon. When the time comes, I shall set things right in a wave of death and destruction. For I was the Exile, and all the world would feel my wrath!


	5. Giratina: Adversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Story #6
> 
> Like Fall From Grace, I wrote this long before planning to do the LotE Bonus series, but I'm including it in the LotE Bonus listing because honestly, it's more of a tie-in story than its own thing. This chapter in particular shouldn't be read until finishing Volume III of LotE.

\+ R + E + V + E + N + G + E +

We stood as if evenly matched, one against one, blade against blade, in the heart of the forge I had called both prison and home. Light and darkness, virtue and aggression, eye to eye, we circled the den as warriors. And all the while came the shrieks of my soul, the barely restrained fury, never to rest, never to heal, always to relish the savagery of war...

I stared into the Raichu's eyes, aghast and furious. How?! How could it be Sparktail who fought me, Sparktail who attacked me, when he had always been the weakest link, the foolish one? Why had Insyte stood idly by, and what had happened to Rush? Where were the ones I had once loved, the ones that fate had ripped from me?

Fury began to seethe like a poison through my black veins. I had devoted my entire life to these wretched Pokemon, giving them all that I had; I had died for their worthless, insignificant lives! If not for them, I would be alive. If not for them, I would have been spared the agony of the millenia, lost and alone, trapped forever in a living hell.

And now they defied all that I stood for, rejecting me and all my works, the oaths I had sworn; and instead they turned to the cruel light of their gods, embracing earth and sky, the world known and the world unknown. I would taste their blood and flesh before I let the last lights fly from their eyes!

\- M - E - M - O - R - Y -

I had stoked the forge of malice for eight thousand years, feeding the aggressive energies of the world to its hungry flames, watching and waiting. The eternal void, the Passage of the Dead, had been allowed to exist since time immemorable. And so, I let the creatures of the world believe that there was no evil, that there was no true malice, that there was no cold, that there was no darkness. How foolish. Any who should make oath with me would bear these black flames, in aura and scent.

It always amused me, to see what the humans thought of these creatures called Pokemon, so similar in appearance and yet so vastly different from the ones they called 'animals', who were on the verge of extinction. Emboars and "pigs", Milktanks and "cows", Combusken and "chickens". At first, the humans were reluctant to feed off the Pokemon as they had with the animals, but when the last animals died, they had no choice.

Am I the bringer of nightmares, or am I the reciever? When I recede into the shadows, and let my mind fade into dust, I see a shining blade in the hands of a human with stern eyes. I see a Charizard with shredded wings, his claws long and golden. I see a Gardevoir with swaying white robes, clutching a spear of blue crystal. Crouching by their feet is a young boy, holding a pair of knives. Then, I see an older man with gold cuffs on his wrists. They stand together as one power, one force, the eyes of my enemies, the ones who vanquished me.

Few were willing to accept that the Pokemon were, deep down inside, still animals. Only when the humans adopted them, cared for them, trained them to be strong, would the Pokemon forego their bestial ways. Perhaps it was then that I first began to resent how humanity tamed us, how they controlled us, weakened us, held us back. Perhaps it was then that the first seeds of war first took root...

\+ R + E + V + E + N + G + E +

I had come to despise the man I once was, that hideous shell of a human, now broken and dead for good. I had sworn to destroy the awful legacy that my old self had built up! I had sworn to prove that we Pokemon were savage and dangerous, to avenge thousands of years of mankind's oppression.

Was it Mewtwo who freed us? We do not remember now; yet we remember seeing the greatest of all Pokemon transformed into a hideous abomination of war at the hands of greed-wallowing humans. We remember how he broke the bells and destroyed the first seal upon us, how he helped us wreak havoc upon mankind once more...

When I seized my rightful throne, Dialga and Palkia rose up to fight me as surely as if I had summoned them. Perhaps they expected a swift and easy fight, but they had forgotten what powers I had regained, and each of them fell. To hear Palkia's dying screams was music to my ears; so too were Dialga's agonized screams.

I left Palkia's broken corpse in the Forests of Ilex to rot, but I had not yet finished with the Dialga, and so I locked him within the abyss to join the dark spirit. When the king's armor and blood tarnished to gold, the cycle of revenge would be complete, and I would watch as my brother tore apart the cities who called him a god!

I see now that the tainted souls of Hearthome's dead have stirred a powerful hunger within the Void. With each passing day, it grows larger and stronger, and from the depths come living shadows to strengthen my army, to shatter mankind's hold on fellow Pokemon, to stir the hearts of the wilderness. When the Void has claimed the Four Virtues, and reaches the peak of its power, all things shall see the world's blackened truth-- and even Arceus himself will be unable to stop this dark crusade.

The Void speaks to me of bygone times when men were thrown into the abyss to die, and it fed off their misery until they turned to dust. My machine of war is rolling strong, and with each city that falls, I shall feed the once-great humans to the Void, letting it strip them of all that they were. From darkness we came, and to darkness we return!

\- M - E - M - O - R - Y -

Far to the east lived the one called N, the human idealist who rejected his fellow man's truths to forge a reality of his own. The one who despised the human opression of Pokemon as much as I did, the one who would sacrifice his humanity for Pokemon as I had. He was one of the human race's best and brightest hopes for the future.

He sought to destroy the foul human regime of Pokemon battling, just as I did; yet at the same time, he worked to cast whatever barriers he could between humanity and Pokemon. With the angelic goddess of divine fire, N was prepared to create a world in which Pokemon would live alone from humans, ready to restore to Pokemon the ancient glorious days of the Golden Age.

It was because of his wretched father, who was the epitome of all things I despised of humans, for which I turned my back upon Team Plasma, and sowed the seeds of N's great defeat at the hands of the black dragon. My lone regret is that in my scheme, I allowed another human hero rose to glory. And yet, it shall be worth the price, for I shall enjoy feasting upon Ghetsis' blood one day...

But Unova shall wait, for there are greater prizes to wash in red. Humanity has spread too far, across too many lands; the disease is strongest in the lands of Sinnoh, Hoenn, Johto, and Kanto, and their bodies shall sate my thirst in time. Even these, however, must wait, for I have only the solace of a world that is no world: too dark, too cold, too silent, too empty; trapped forever with meaningless delusions of war.

\+ R + E + V + E + N + G + E +

The Four Virtues cower in terror. The Pokemon of the wilderness cannot stop me. Even the legendary Red cannot halt my forces rising. And though the warriors of Unova are resilient, they can only oppose me with half of its strength, and Unova's dichotomy shall be its downfall.

The Vulcanites are a powerful force to be contended with. Heatran has an admirable savagery, ruling his people as a machine of war, a factory of soldiers. And yet, he demands an unnecessary amount of discipline, to uphold the cause they fight for! How well-trained must a warrior be to kill a single, cowardly human with no Pokemon slaves to hide behind?

Darkrai has summoned more Hexwraiths to Fuschia City, ones far stronger than the Dusknoirs of Sinnoh's southern cape. Efficient, swift, and brutal; they seize their victims and spirit them away, where in their final hours, humans learn the violent truth of nature, before they are consumed body and spirit by a dominant will.

Ah, yet there are strange rumors on the wind. I have heard claims that Kyogre and Groudon broke free from their restraints. I know not why or how this would happen, but they do not answer my summons. Yet they are wild and feral, and they shall do more harm than good for the humans if they rise against me, for they embody the natural world in all its chaos.

But who should have the power to free them? I forged the Red Chains that bound them; I alone can destroy them. No human or Pokemon could hope to break the chains, when every shackle bears my aural imprint! And what manner of creature would be so bold as to enter the mundane lairs where the Orbs lie? There shall be a reckoning...

\- M - E - M - O - R - Y -

Though my spirit longs to be free, I shall wait and bide my time, and retribution shall be all the greater. For now, I shall be content to rip the fat-swollen skull of Cyrus from his idiotic body. The foolish man thinks to control Dialga and Palkia with the likes of the Red Chains; what fallacy could cause him to forget that the chain's true strength only emerges when the links are forged willingly?

He comes closer, wandering and muttering as if possessed by demons, and I feel a savage joy from the shadows within me. I cannot resist, he has crossed the threshold; I reach forward and drag the old man out from his searing world, tear him from his roots and pull him into my lair. The lake guardians follows him into the undead world, as if to watch me feast on his worthless corpse.

But then come two more humans, a woman in black, and a boy with a blue jacket and a red beret. The guardians warn me that the woman has the power to destroy me with a flute if I should attack them, and they shall not leave until they know Cyrus is safe. Anger brews within me, and I reach for the great weapons; but no, I am still a powerless shadow, still cut off from myself, a paltry shell of the spirit dragon who forced the world to its knees. Furious, I reluctantly retreat into the ugly shadows, and I watch the humans search.

I cannot stand them, cannot stand the words they utter, how the boy speaks of destiny and the woman again stubbornly cries of the intrinsic good of all Pokemon, holding true to her ignorant doctrine, traveling this broken world like infants on a playground. The lake guardians do not hide; they toy with the humans, leading them onward in circles, through pits and over rocks, but the humans will not venture close enough to the Void to be consumed.

I can wait no longer, and I descend upon them in all my fury, in all my rage, attacking the boy with the hatred of two millenia. I fight to the last breath, but he has invested much riches into his warriors, and they wear me down, battering me relentlessly. With my last ounces of strength, I crush the terrible capsule he flings at me, before it can consume, and I flee into the darkness.

\+ R + E + V + E + N + G + E +

There came a day when a Ponyta, a Spiritomb, and a Dusknoir brought prisoners to me, claiming to have captured the Four Virtues. Such wretched minions! Had they not paid attention to my warnings? The Virtues have evaded capture from humans for centuries; they will not be seized so easily, not by such weak pawns!

Then, I recognized the three Pokemon they had taken, the scent of their fur, the hidden scars. Was it was a cruel joke of the Four Virtues, for Sparktail, Thalia, and Insyte to be captured in their place? Ah, yes, the Virtues would pay, for I had no desire to see these faces. Perhaps, when I had found the rest of the set, I would take a closer look at them; but for now, I shall hand them over to Darkrai to play with...

And then I see the truth: If they have survived, so too have the others. I should have cut their throats when I had the chance, when I saw them helpless by their trainer's body! I should have ripped them to shreds and cast the pieces into the abyss! Ever stronger shall the Void rage, uniting the bloodiest shards of this wretched earth into a black maelstrom.

No longer shall I linger at this mountain, for it is the mountain of Arceus and his beloved children, not I, the black sheep, the rejected son, the weakling brother. No, I shall join my forces in their beautiful savagery; I will lead the soldiers myself, so that the world can see firsthand who commands the scarlet tide!

\- M - E - M - O - R - Y -

It was not always this way, that even young boys and girls could hope to capture the beasts of legend, and even my most ancient self despised how it had become so. Once, the legends struck fear into the hearts of men; blazing firestorms, thrashing thunderbolts, withering blizzards. Once, we Pokemon could terrorize entire nations with a single sweep of our claws.

Even the most committed humans, who devoted their lives to a cause, who sought to alter the face of the world-- through torrential floods, through blood-boiling sunlight-- they could not master the ancient beasts of legend, for all their dedication, for all their schemes. Blinded by their pitiful humanity, they would unleash a cataclysmic power they could not hope to control.

But it all changed with the young human prodigy, Red. The greatest Pokemon Trainer to have ever lived, he earned his first badge at the age of ten, tamed Zapdos at age eleven, and became Champion at age twelve, bringing inspiration to a foolish world. Now every young trainer thinks himself or herself a prodigy in the vein of Red, and all respect for legend is gone.

And the Pokemon of the wilderness accept this folly. The Sentrets of Johto, the Rattatas of Kanto; they embrace the humans who trample into their fields, who invade their homes, who capture them and force them to battle their brethren. They condone these aliens, and allow themselves to be dragged into slavery. And the further north they live, the more willingly they submit. Truly, what madness has consumed these creatures of the world?

I have not forgotten the boy who crossed an ocean, whose father came before him. The Zigzagoon he held prisoner should have clawed out his throat! And yet with each passing day, I felt the Pokemon's aggression fade, until he submitted to the boy and his human values, fighting his own kind as a Linoone for the sake of this youth! How should it be that humans, with their blood-thinning ideals, should prove dominant over Pokemon?

\+ R + E + V + E + N + G + E +

The Silver Conclave lies broken now, and mankind's destruction continues unhindered. Elias Elkwood, the legendary Swordwrit warrior who crossed time, was taking refuge on its shores, but he is no more; the oracles Solus and Stealthius, too, were found and now gone. Save perhaps the longhorn Absol, the Swordwrit shall not be a threat any longer.

Zapdos has drastically crippled the Iron Fleet; less than half of them remain, more than enough to ground the Silver Summoner with his grief, just as during the previous war. I am almost disappointed by how easily Lugia has been dealt with, but perhaps it is fitting that the true challenges come from the pestilence of humanity itself.

And yet, even as Jirachi descends into the Void to join the other two Virtues, Mewtwo's reports are troublesome. How can Slick's Pokemon still be alive, so soft-bellied and unfamiliar with the wilderness as they are? And though I freed them from my former self, they have spat upon their new freedom and rejected it. They spurned the promises of Slick, they spurn the promises of Giratina!

They are dangerous warriors, dangerous and unpredictable. I can name what they once were, yes: Sparktail was trained with the blade, and Thalia with two; but Insyte was nothing but a whimpering shadow, and now he blazes like the sun! And as for Rush--

There is no excuse for Rush! None! I can speak of how I despise the rest; but for Rush, there are no words, no light, no oath. I will peel apart his flesh piece by piece and feed it to him, for abandoning me in my hour of death; I will grind every last face he loves into blood and dust before his eyes; he will know horror and despair, a thousand deaths!

\- M - E - M - O - R - Y -

A tool of destruction, Mewtwo became my sword, my avenging weapon, unearthed by men and used against men. An unknown quandry locked away for centuries in the genetic code of the Mew tribes of Guyana, his birth was a dark folly, an unforseen twist of fate. And with the blood of the world's enemies on his hands, his mind opened to my voice.

Thus, the gates of my banishment were torn open, and I took my first true breath in over two thousand years. When the bells rang their last, the elements bowed before my sword, who took command of their terror, and turned them upon the world's slavers. Stirred by wayward youths from sleep, my servants flocked to my side; for through them, humans sowed their own destruction.

Does Tyranitar still remember his bondage to the human Evice? For when I rose from the abyss, when I cried out to the wild, he was one of the first to answer my summons. Spared by the human hero Wes, he was released into the wilderness of Sinnoh years hence. Though he was weak, tainted by a soft-hearted land, I chose him for my flag, to stand beside my sword.

One by one, the cities fell before me. Fire consumed the heart of the land, and thunderous wrath destroyed its harbors. In the shadows of mankind's corruption, I discovered the nightmare incarnate; and Darkrai too joined my forces, helping to tear down all that men had built. In their dogmatic faith, in their blind worship of the gods, not one voice in Sinnoh thought to connect the destruction with me.

At Seabreak Castle, at last I saw the chosen hero emerge, Aluxiver's heir, marked for destiny by the Virtues. And yet he was not ready to oppose me; like all humans, he was weak of will, and too easy to drive away. He had none of the gifts of his ancestor; he shall be easy to destroy. I shall fear the Virtues and their empty threats no longer.

Tyranitar and Mewtwo would have slaughtered Cynthia's pet beast, but nay, I stayed their hands. For within this mute, crippled Garchomp, I saw a feral beast, extinction incarnate. I saw a spirit that embraced carnage and reveled in chaos, a streak of scarlet that would terrorize the crumbling remnants of humanity before they turned to ashes. And with all of Sinnoh broken and shattered before me, the world was mine to claim.

\+ R + E + V + E + N + G + E +

Now I gaze with savage pleasure upon the burning ruins of Blackthorn, once a resilient city of dragon-slavers, but now a field of ashes. When Scarlet Streak rose against Lance and tore out his throat, did he understand the terrible wrath he incurred? Did he see the vengeance of the sacred beasts his clan had enslaved for decades, the terror of the dragons that he turned against his enemies? This was the price they paid for their centuries of

Then, as the Rhyperiors gather the prisoners, I see an old man kneeling on the ground before me, begging for us to spare his kin. But his pleas are empty; his children and their families lie strewn across the ground, and his children's children have been gathered into coffles of six, prepared for transport to the mines in Sinnoh. Coffles of six, just as the trainers bound their Pokemon.

But as I descend towards him, I see the wooden carving of a Mew in the old man's trembling hands. Mew, the one who trapped me in this cycle of destiny, who took my loved ones from me, who cast me into this cursed existence, who mocks me even in her captivity. The dark fires that consume the city are not enough to quell the fury, now! And yet my prey has gone scarce, swept off the earth by my soldiers; and all thought, all logic blurs into crimson death.

Snarling, I wrest the old man from the ground, striking blindly with open eyes, thrashing in sunlit shadow. I will not rest, until Red's blood is upon my claws, until I have ripped the great Champion from his throne and torn him apart. I will not rest, until the world is purged of humanity and their bone-splitting morals. I will not rest, until the legacy of men fades into myth forever.

\- M - E - M - O - R - Y -

No, it is not Mew's fault. I know my mistake. I underestimated the chosen hero, the one who called himself Slick Silversky. Yes, he was weak as humans are. Yes, he was a coward. But I had forgotten Slick's role in history; I had forgotten the bond that joined us. And thus, I sealed my own fate.

Within days, my forces arrived in Almia, in Fiore, in Oblivia, in Kanto, in Johto, in Hoenn, and in Orre, with the rest of the world to follow after. But I soon discovered that Slick was a greater danger than I had expected. He was one of the Hoenn Elite Four, and next in line to succeed the Champion. Hoenn's militaries were always disorganized but fierce; under Aluxiver's heir, they would surely be my undoing.

I soon turned my full attention to Hoenn; for Dialga had taken the Griseous Orb to the Cave of Origin. I retreated my armies from other regions; once my soul was complete, the rest of the world Through Dusknoir spies, I soon learned Slick's weakness: He did not trust other humans. My strategy came togoether with impossible perfection... and the trap succeeded as planned.

Did Slick know his destiny then? Did he know of the sword that was his by birthright, that would have allowed him to slay me in battle? But I had already won, for the Griseous Orb was mine to wield again. With the ancient weapon I had created two thousand years ago, I descended upon Mount Pyre and slew Slick, the chosen hero, my enemy.

But in his dying moments, our eyes met; and in that instant, I saw my mistake. I had forgotten that he was protected by the Virtues' blessings; I had forgotten that he was my equal, that he had been labeled light, just as I had been labeled darkness. I could not harm him without harming myself. And as he died, I... I experienced fear for the first time.

In an instant, all logic shattered, all senses became scattered. The Griseous Orb had rejuvenated me, but even my full strength failed ke. I could not contain my lieutenants, and so their bodies were transformed by black fire-- Mewtwo's pale rotting flesh, Garchomp's blood-red scales, Tyranitar's white skin. And so I fled into the chaos, the Devil terrified in the depths of Hell.

He clawed his way out from the eternal abyss, no longer human, no longer alive, but a mindless beast, an offshoot of Dialga's madness. Still weakened, I struck with all my power, with all my fury; but just as on the day that humans entered Distortion, I could not repel my enemy. Cursed by Primal Dialga with awareness, cursed by the Virtues with his survival, he triumphed over me in violence. Against my will, he flowed into me, and I flowed into him.

Thus the ghost infiltrated me, sprinting into the distant past, burrowing into ancient memories with fiery delight, through civilization and anarchy, through war and peace, through natural darkness and rising light. And he seized from me my rightful throne, claiming the mantle of the final gate for himself, immersing himself in me until he saw as darkness saw, heard as darkness heard, felt as darkness felt.

Defeated, I sank into the Void, stripped of my power, stripped of my flesh, stripped of myself. I saw the ghost's scar appear on the great serpent's body, saw the new Exile rise from my ashes, hideous and raw, but fierce and vengeful. I saw a demon who was once human, but was no longer. A cursed light in a body of darkness.

As I lie in the Void, sundered from my glorious victory, I see the tragic irony of the Virtues' victory. Aurton Silversky defeated Giratina, but now he has become Giratina. I was wrong to think he had none of his ancestor's gifts, for he had the burning gift that drove Aluxiver to defeat me: a gift of passion. At last, I understand the truth; but I am powerless to break the cycle of fates, the endless tragedy of the Exile, forever doomed to echo itself in meaningless conflicts.

Though my memories linger, it shall be Slick's revenge that escalates the war, that brings the world to its knees. Twisted by death, corrupted by his own madness, he has lost his own humanity, replaced with a feral rage more terrible than mine. He will wage war where I would choose caution; he will slay those who I would isolate for further study. The Virtues have won against me, but they have lost the world-- for they have created a more vicious Giratina than I could ever be!

\+ R + E + V + E + N + G + E +

At last I saw what my enemies had done, what self-righteous judgement they had imposed upon me. I saw how Lugia and Ho-oh had twisted fate upon me, taking my greatest joys and transforming them into weapons against me. Fire brewed within my soul, the fire of a thousand scars, and I raised my griseous blade high.

The black spirit whom I cast into the abyss yearns to be free, but his crusade, his cause, his war is mine! None shall call me human now, for even Giratina was more human than I. Let the world know this: I have become death, I have embraced my exile, I am the world's true adversary, I am Giratina.

Whatever wizardry Lugia had concocted, to twist all my children so, would not stand against me and my fire! Sparktail was but a mouse, and I was the great serpent. Predator against prey; he would fall before me easily. For now, I would play with this Raichu, allow him to believe that he stood the faintest chance; and then, when I was done, I would dipose of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, Fall From Grace would have shown Slick's ghost becoming Giratina through time travel. However, the Exile acted differently enough in WoV and LotE that he could be considered two separate characters. So I retconned Fall From Grace into being a fusion of Slick's and Giratina's memories, which would require that there be a Giratina before Slick. The purpose of Adversary is partly to address the Giratina of WoV, who as you can see, is also the Giratina from Pokemon Platinum.


End file.
